


'Twas the Day of Christmas

by WritingQuill



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Post-Reichenbach, Tumblr: letswritesherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingQuill/pseuds/WritingQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock exchange gifts on Christmas morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Twas the Day of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Gift Giving"

The sound of experiments being conducted in the kitchen in the early morning still surprised him. Though John had moved back in three months ago now, he still hadn’t got used to living with Sherlock again, and really what still bothered him most about the whole arrangement was the “living” aspect of it. After long explanations and conversations and complications, Sherlock had explained his whole “magic trick” to John, and John had understood. Really. He got it, he got the why, and the how, and everything else. But his subconscious seemed to still be in a world where Sherlock was dead, and every other night John had nightmares about it. So waking up to the small sounds of Sherlock moving about in the kitchen were still oddly surprising, if not comforting to John’s jaded mind. 

He put on his dressing gown and walked down the stairs. He had the day off today, since it was Christmas, but other than that, there were no real plans set. His sister was away with her girlfriend — Mel, lovely girl, managed to keep Harry sober, and that was all John could ask for — and he had no other family to speak of, so John was really planning a quiet day at the flat, maybe with Sherlock before he left for his mother’s house, with some telly (BBC had a fantastic Christmas line-up this year) and some leftovers. Not much, but it brought a warm sense of comfort to John, so he smiled as he walked into the kitchen to find Sherlock not conducting an experiment, but rather kneeling by the cooker, looking through the glass intently. 

‘Good morning?’ said John as he walked past Sherlock and towards the kettle. It was a special day, so he was going to have himself a nice cup of Mulled Spice Tea he had got from Twinings as an early Christmas gift for himself. ‘What are you up to, then?’ 

‘Baking,’ replied Sherlock, eyes glued to the oven. John gaped as he stared down at his flatmate. 

‘Baking. You. Are baking.’ 

‘Yes, obviously.’ 

‘But… you don’t—‘ 

‘Mrs Hudson informed me I should do something nice for you for Christmas because of all the pain I caused you ever since my faked death, and suggested I should bake for you. I was going to earlier, but that case with the psychic cats came up and I forgot about it until this morning.’ 

John nodded. Right. ‘Well, thank you, I guess. This is… incredibly nice of you. So you’re baking…?’ 

‘Biscuits. Mrs Hudson had these Christmas-themes cutters she said I could use, so there,’ he pointed at the glass and John moved to look inside, where a dozen Christmas-tree-shaped biscuits were baking beautifully. 

‘Wow, they look fantastic! Thank you, Sherlock, this is lovely.’ John smiled at his friend. At times like these, when Sherlock did something so incredibly un-Sherlock and yet so Sherlock-y all at once, those were the times when John loved him the most. He squeezed Sherlock shoulder and walked back to the kettle to steep his tea. Then he remembered, ‘are we exchanging gifts this year? I got you something, actually. I know you don’t care for the holidays, but I just—‘ 

‘I got you something as well,’ Sherlock said just as his egg-timer chimed. John stared as Sherlock removed his biscuits from the oven and placed them to cool, then walked to his bedroom only to come out with a wrapped box. ‘It’s, um, nothing much, but, um…’ 

John smiled widely. ‘I’ll just go get yours, then,’ he said and went to look for the package. It was really nothing at all, but he thought Sherlock might like it. 

A few minutes later they were both sitting on their respective chairs holding their respective gifts for the other. Sherlock averted his eyes as he handed John his gift, and John smirked as he handed Sherlock his. 

‘You go first,’ John said. Sherlock nodded and set about unwrapping the present. John was actually surprised he didn’t try to guess what the present was, but he suspected it was the Christmas spirit making a visit. He smiled wider at the small gasp that left Sherlock’s lips once he had the present revealed. 

‘These are…’ 

‘Your sheet music, yeah. I found them among my things when I moved back in, and decided to put them in a nice organised book…’ 

Sherlock seemed speechless, which made John even happier. 

‘I thought I’d lost them,’ Sherlock exhaled. ‘Thank you, John. This is… Thank you.’ Sherlock’s eyes were bright with joy, and his mouth couldn’t contain a happy smile. Making that possible was enough of a Christmas present for John, but then he remembered the box on his lap. 

‘Shall I open mine, then?’ 

Sherlock gulped. ‘Yes. Well. While I was… away, I, um, wrote letters in a notebook. I wrote to you. I knew I could never send you them because I was for all intents and purposes dead, but you were always my conductor of light, and even talking to the Mind Palace version of you was better than nothing at all, and I wrote to you about everything. So I thought you’d like to read it. Maybe. You don’t have to, but—‘ 

John stared at the box, he opened it and pulled out a leather-bound journal. Wide-eyed, he read the first page. 

“John, I miss you. I’ve been gone for two days, and I already miss you. I don’t want to do this, but if I don’t, it will cost your life, and that’s far too precious…” 

It went on and on, Sherlock’s own stream of consciousness, and John couldn’t stop his eyes from swelling up with tears of joy and sadness and relief. He looked back up at Sherlock who was perhaps even more wide-eyed than John himself, and smiled. 

‘Thank you, Sherlock,’ he said. Then he stood up and walked towards Sherlock, leant down and enveloped his flatmate in a hug. ‘I missed you to,’ he whispered, and Sherlock’s arms were around him. They hugged for a long time, the relief and happiness washing all over them, and it was indeed a very merry Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> Was this too lame? I hope it wasn't... I've been in a sappy mood lately, and this is all that comes out, haha. Let me know what you think, please :) 
> 
> Also, don't forget that I'm on tumblr [here](http://writingquill.tumblr.com>here</a>%20and%20<a%20href=). 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Cheers x


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